Truth Smoothie
by Dreamer1920
Summary: Who needs alcohol when there's Sandy's 'truth smoothie' to help you speak your mind? Sandy hopes her new invention will not only help her bosses with their touchy interactions, but that it'll also do the same for as many folks as possible - herself, SpongeBob, & Patrick included. But when the test for the drink doesn't go as planned, feelings are not only hurt, but also revealed.
1. Chapter 1: Things Slip Out

**Hi there! I have some things to say. Firstly, I apologize for deleting this story so suddenly and without explanation. There were certain circumstances that made me do it; I won't mention what they are, as they are too personal, but anyways. If you are someone who has already read this story and you like it, thank you. I appreciate your support. However, if you are new to this, _please_ note that this story contains things such as _coarse language_ (bad words), _dirty __humor_ (sexual jokes), ****and the characters acting _hostile_ (so, kind of OOC. But that's part of the plot, trust me lol). If you do not like any of those sorts of things, well, I advise you not to continue reading after this note. But if you are adventurous (like _moi) _then you might just like it, haha. Thank you for reading. **

**This story is dedicated to one of my good friends (and an awesome writer), MiguelPescado! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters. I do, however, own this story.**

* * *

**Truth Smoothie **

_Saturday evening, 6:30 p.m. in Sandy's Treedome…_

To say that the past six days of the week for Bikini Bottom's _somewhat_ mad scientist Sandy Cheeks had been busy would be quite an understatement.

Especially since she had been spending all her precious, air-breathing time every bright, summer day and dark night, working her tail off to create the perfect smoothie in her obnoxiously loud blender that was powered by her exercise wheel.

Needless to say, in the process of all the chemical and fruit-mixing, she also managed to lose a good five pounds when blending everything.

Frying two fish in one skillet was just the way the squirrel rolled.

Staying up until dawn just to go through trial and error to complete a cold beverage that many people considered to be a breakfast item seemed like a strange and unnecessarily stressful endeavor. And it was, but Sandy was the most determined Texan scientist in all of Bikini Bottom.

Well, she was really the _only_ Texan scientist in Bikini Bottom.

Of course, Sandy _would_ have given herself some slack and taken a break from the exhausting activities once in a while; she was a hard-worker, but she also knew how important it was to give that big brain of hers a good, long rest so that she would be as refreshed as possible to continue her work. After all, a person feeling as though their eyes were turning to rocks in their head, and their mind becoming as cloudy as a filthy fish tank would most certainly inhibit them from making their already brilliant ideas even brighter.

However, Sandy had no minute in the world to waste with the pressure of her three chimpanzee bosses from _Tree_ _Dome_ _Enterprises_ _Limited_ coming back on Sunday to finish their latest inspection of her work.

They didn't raise her salary fourteen years ago for _nothing_.

Dr. Marmalade, Lord Reginald, and Professor Percy traveled from the surface world and came by the beloved Treedome at the beginning of the week before. And, them being as fussy and judgmental as they naturally were, they were moderately unimpressed with the slew of gadgets – big, medium, small, and every other size possible – that had been crafted into existence by Sandy's own mammalian hands.

The three monkey-men had, unbelievably, only examined about half of the contraptions inside the air-dome; the place looked more crowded than a mechanic shop, and it was just as untidy, too, which didn't help in the way of them keeping their faith in her.

Though their reaction to her inventions wasn't the worst it could have possibly been, it still pressed down on her heart and made it flip in her chest at the same time. There weren't many things in life that managed to bring Sandy down, as she was usually as enthusiastic as a hummingbird searching for sweet nectar. But those hairy bosses of hers were some of the biggest exceptions when it came to dragging her into losing hope, and also making her as nervous as the cats that she so despised.

Trying to keep that ounce of positivity alive, Sandy promised the three that they would certainly be impressed by at least _something_ she had made. And if all else failed, she would work on something that would rip the peels right off their bananas. Not literally, of course. She had accomplished that already when they discovered that her nutcracking machine was the perfect banana peeler that they had been searching 117 years for.

Sandy had made that promise while still filled with self-doubt, but right when they were leaving, it didn't take long for that sharp mind of hers to instantly envision her new invention as if it was a movie scene playing inside of the most vivid dream anyone could ever have.

If this whacky idea didn't work, she did have the whole other half of the Treedome full of scattered inventions to rely on to impress them.

Nevertheless, she was hoping that this would indeed work. And what better way to find out if it worked for sure than to test it on herself and a couple of good pals?

SpongeBob and Patrick, staying hydrated with the water-filled helmets over their heads, sat quietly together on one end of the picnic table, their backs facing the darkening underwater sky that could be seen from inside the polyurethane home.

Right now, the two would be in Jellyfish Fields, laying out on the moist grass and staring out into the wonderful beauty of the orange, pink, purple and blue hues that adorned parts of the endless abyss of outer space, but summer was far from over; gazing at the horizon was something that they could do any night.

Being there to help their smart, squirrelly friend was of the utmost importance this evening.

Especially to SpongeBob, who was almost always willing to drop whatever it was that he was doing to be there for her in any way that he could. Patrick was the same way, but SpongeBob's case was far more, one could say, _intense_ when it came to how much he cared to help her. And Sandy surely was grateful to him for it.

After all, they were "tighter than bark on a tree."

Sandy squinted her eyes like she was staring into the Sun as she examined the consistency of the whitish-yellow liquid below her on the table.

She would lift the lid off the blender, add in a few dashes of chemicals (which could potentially kill them, but anything for science, right?) A little splash of water here, a ripened banana there, she'd run over to the exercise wheel and sweat for a minute or two, and then repeat the process. She would've had either one of the doofuses sitting opposite of her run the machine for her, but they had already tried it earlier and failed miserably.

Seeing them lose their footing and spin around on the wheel like hamsters until they flew off and were smashed against the side of the dome was admittedly hysterical, but Sandy cared more about them getting hurt, _and_ her house potentially cracking and breaking than about her own amusement.

SpongeBob and the dimwitted starfish next to him stared blankly as Sandy continued adding the odd _and_ normal-looking ingredients to the smoothie.

"I don't get it," said Patrick, his face giving off that usual clueless look that was like the expression of a cow from the land of the surface.

"Don't get _what_, Patrick?" SpongeBob asked, finally breaking his gaze from Sandy and setting it on his friend.

"Why is Sandy 'inventing' something that already exists?" Patrick picked at the lint in his belly button.

"You mean the smoothie?"

"Pft," Patrick huffed mockingly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. People have been making 'em for years. It's nothing groundbreaking."

"Bahahaha!" SpongeBob laughed, holding onto his stomach and shutting his eyes. "Oh, Patrick. That reminds me – remember how you kept pulling out random objects and saying you invented them the last time Sandy's bosses were gonna come here? Bahaha! Oh, looking back on it makes me laugh."

Patrick, having the memory come back to smack him upside his pointy, empty head, was rather offended by being made fun of by this big, yellow cube with holes, who claimed to be his "best friend".

"Hey, I still say somebody was stealing my ideas!" he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

As if he couldn't get any more childish.

"Anyways, Patrick, Sandy's smoothie isn't just an _ordinary_ smoothie – it's a _truth_ smoothie," SpongeBob smiled knowingly.

"Oh, yeah…" Patrick's smile disappeared faster than the feast of food he had eaten for breakfast that morning. "I still don't get it."

"Don't you remember the story Sandy told us last week?"

"Mmm…" Patrick squinted, rubbing his helmet where his chin would be. "I don't know," he shrugged, "something about the three hairy guys having an argument?"

SpongeBob couldn't help but smile at the way his friend was so forgetful sometimes (not to mention as dense as the rock he slept under).

"Y-yeah…" SpongeBob's mouth fell into a straight line for a moment, then quickly curved back into his typical cheerful smile. "Something like that." Wrapping a brotherly arm around Patrick's chubby shoulder, SpongeBob leaned into his side. "Here, allow me to jog your memory, old friend."

* * *

_**Flashback…**_

Sandy rubbed her furry knuckle with her other hand, and her face was that of a scared, innocent child, which was as rare for her as it was for Patrick to bathe, or for SpongeBob to lose his temper. Even for Mr. Krabs to be generous.

"I surely appreciate y'all comin' by and takin' the time to inspect things today, gentlemen," Sandy said timidly as she walked the three men across the warm dome towards the steel front door. "I apologize that my inventions weren't as promisin' as you were hopin' for."

The way that those chimps simultaneously turned around as if they were robotic machines, with eyes that were focused on staring through her soul like the eyes of a father readying himself to scold his offspring made not just the fur on the back of her neck to stand up, but on every inch of her body as well.

Truly, the primates were not nearly as frightening as some of the creatures that Sandy had fought against throughout her lifetime – the Alaskan Bull Worm included. But not every living being she came in contact with had to be intimidating in just the way that they looked. The words and attitudes of these men could sometimes make her believe she was going to be mentally shot dead like a wild animal losing its life to the gun of a hunter.

It wasn't exactly that she was scared of _them_, personally, although they did give her lots of reasons to be. It had more to do with the fact of what they thought of her inventions, and just like the last time they showed up many years in the past, it was just as nerve-wracking.

"It was our pleasure, Miss Cheeks. After all, it is our duty to ensure that our research money is still being well-spent," said Professor Percy, lifting his chin up high and gradually scanning the messy place with haughtiness. "And from what I can see, that has yet to be confirmed once more this time around."

"I agree," Dr. Marmalade said, crossing his massive arms over his chest. The size difference between all of them was both astonishing and hilarious.

Sandy's eyes shifted warily to each person as they spoke. It was Lord Reginald's turn to voice his snooty opinion, which Sandy was dreading the most because he had been the quietest one there that day.

"Indeed," Lord Reginald breathed out slowly, pushing his small glasses further back onto his nose. "Although, I must say, Miss Cheeks, we will continue to keep our faith in you until you have proven yourself unworthy… which we hope will never be the case, of course."

Sandy sunk her large buckteeth into her lower lip, trying to relieve the pulsating stress that circulated throughout her system. "I couldn't agree more, Lord Reginald. I'm fairly positive that y'all will be impressed by at least _one_ of these other gadgets I've got layin' around. But just in case, in the meantime, I'll do my best to come up with somethin' that'll win ya for sure. I promise."

She spoke with the fakest yet realest-sounding confidence possible; she hadn't doubted herself this much since the last time they had visited. At this moment, she was crossing her fingers behind her back and praying with desperation that Neptune would show her some new sign or miracle that she would be able to make it through this test, and she remained secretly unsure if any of the other inventions that they had yet to examine would be of any help with that.

"Well then, that sounds splendid. We'll be looking forward to said 'promise' you've just made. We shall return this next Sunday to also see just exactly what else you have in store for… eh…" Professor Percy glanced around the room once more, thinking of a better way to phrase his sentence. "In _dome_ for us. Come now, gentlemen. Let us proceed out to the curb in order to climb aboard our— "

"Technically, Professor Percy, it isn't really a _curb_ where our vehicle sits. There is no concrete stone in sight; only the sand and the asphalt."

Professor Percy raised an eyebrow, his face growing in mild irritation as he looked up at the humongous chimpanzee, who was extremely smart but oftentimes looked as oaf-like as that Mr. Dr. Professor Patrick, whom they had met years before.

"Yes, well…" Percy adjusted his glasses, "that is indeed true, Dr. Marmalade. I shall like to…" his eyelids twitched, and his lips moved, but it seemed that his brain was having difficulty allowing words to come through. "T-t-**thank** you for the correction, albeit an unnecessary one."

"But of course, Percy." Dr. Marmalade smiled cluelessly, clasping his hands behind his back. "It's always a pleasure to offer my helpful and precise explanations when needed."

"Also, rather _infuriating_ explanations, I might add."

The other two smart alecks leaned forward to look at the smallest chimp, Lord Reginald after he had mumbled what they _thought_ sounded like an insult under his breath.

"What was that, Lord Reginald?" asked Dr. Marmalade, raising his eyebrow even higher than Percy had.

"Yes, what was it that you said?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing, gentlemen! Nothing at all," he forced a smile, then lifted his blue parasol and stuck it out forcefully toward the exit. Though the object was small, it was still rather invasive to have it almost smack them any time he would point it at something as if it were a weapon.

He, of course, chose to be oblivious in the most superior way possible to his bad habit.

"Now, _shall_ we proceed— "

"I say, Lord Reginald, do you think it would be possible to not…" Percy hesitated, "_**stab**_ us with your folding canopy when physically referring to the door or other things? It really does get quite— "

Even Sandy was holding her breath at that almost threatening look on Reginald's old face.

Whatever word Percy was going to finish with was most intriguing to the chimp. Would that word happen to be what described the look on each of their faces whenever one of them would get on each other's nerves, such as this instance?

"Do go on, Professor Percy," Reginald smiled widely and cheerily with his mouth, but his eyes remained like smug portals to a world full of egomaniacs.

Percy's expression had grown fully into a field of regret upon realizing what he'd almost let slip. "Quite, eh… quite charming. It is very charming the way you nearly _jab_ us in the chest with your accessory. Is it not, Dr. Marmalade?" he looked up at him to finally avoid Reginald's piercing gaze.

"Oh, yes. _Quite_, hm, hm," Marmalade chuckled in his low-sounding voice. "In fact, I can't think of anything more charming than that."

"While I would certainly agree wholeheartedly with that statement, I must still _disagree_ to a certain extent. I think it would be even _more_ charming if one of us were to use a breath mint once in a while, such as right now, as we have a long journey ahead of us…"

The two chimps and Sandy flinched in surprise when Percy turned around quicker than a flash of lightning and pulled out a small, square, white box that contained the breath refreshers that he was speaking of. He popped the lid of it open with his finger and grinned. "Or perhaps _**more**_ than one of us should."

After sharing a confused and borderline insulted glance, the other two felt they had the right to question the motives behind his words.

"Professor Percy," Reginald cleared his throat, "is it possible you are insinuating that foul stenches effuse from the speaking holes known as our mouths?"

"Yes," Dr. Marmalade furrowed his eyebrows, "is that what you are insinuating? And by the way, come to think of it, we needn't worry about such matters, Professor Percy; we will be putting on our air helmets rather shortly."

"Oh!" Percy shook his head, carefully picking out two small and round chewable pieces. "Good heavens, no! I am aware of that, gentlemen. I am simply saying that it is important to keep your jaws from locking up due to lack of movement." His over-the-top smile became more relaxed as he handed them the mints. "There you are."

_In that case, I'd say chewing gum would be more effective… or y'all could just talk, _Sandy thought. _What in tarnation is goin' on with these three? _

"Of course, then again, we will be confined in our own air spaces, and, therefore, it _is_ possible that some of us will have to endure the horrible oral aromas given off by our own 'speaking holes'," Percy finished, showing a sly smile.

Dr. Marmalade stared down with disinterest at the tiny candy in his huge palm. "Mm, thank you, Professor Percy. Do remember to take one for yourself…" he became the first to continue the walk towards the steel exit. "Or take several, actually… perhaps even the rest of what's in the container."

If the other two weren't standing right across from her, Sandy would have stuck a cotton swab in her earhole to clean it out and make sure that she heard what she _thought_ she had.

The looks on their faces were as priceless as Squidward's face whenever something didn't go his way.

"Uh, here! Allow me," said Sandy as she raced to the door, twisted the handle and pulled it open, causing it to creak loudly.

The four said their goodbyes. As the chimps slowly made their way to the yellow vehicle outside, Sandy's eyes were glued to each movement they made.

By this time, Sandy had already thought deeply about the strange interactions between her bosses; the way that their faces told of how much they were trying to conceal their true emotions, the small and subtle insults being thrown everywhere, the held-back frustration in their voices – she didn't recall them acting in such a way before, but whatever changed had changed quite some time ago, because the animosity in the air seemed to have been lingering for ages, and it appeared to be most stressful for them.

Thinking about it all reminded her of the different ways that she had casually observed the behavior of the Bikini Bottomites over the years, in places like the park, the beach or even the grocery store. It was the same story when she was living back in Texas; people wanting to speak their minds and tell their truths, but without having to deal with the hostility that came with it and also afterward.

It wasn't even "strange" at all; it was a normal emotional and phycological part of being a person, and it was suddenly more fascinating to her than ever before.

If only there was a way to make letting out pent-up irritation and opinions a little easier, and possibly smoother.

Putting those other inventions in the back of her head now, there was a fresh, new, exciting, and seemingly very helpful idea blowing itself into existence in her thoughts like the way that SpongeBob would blow a bubble through his wand.

That mindful and devious smile that often danced across Sandy's face had returned to waltz on her features.

_Eureka!_

* * *

_**End of flashback. **_

"…And that, Patrick, is the whole reason that Sandy is creating her truth smoothie." SpongeBob said happily, closing his eyes and finishing the long spiel that Patrick had already previously heard from Sandy, but couldn't remember to save his lazy life. "Makes sense, right?"

Patrick's eyes were as blank as his mind. He shook his head and shifted his gaze around the room, then pointed a finger (if he even had any) at himself. "Were you talking to me?"

"Phew!"

Serving as a distraction for SpongeBob so that he couldn't get annoyed with Patrick for not listening to a word he had said the entire time that he told the story, Sandy jumped down from the giant exercise wheel for the final time, her bare feet crashing down upon the cool grass that had been watered not long ago.

Sandy walked back up to the picnic table, sweat dripping down her forehead, and her eyelids sitting halfway over her warm, brown irises. She stared at the clipboard in her hands, using a perfectly sharpened pencil to check off the second to last box on her list of things to do for the smoothie.

"Alrighty," she breathed, "looks like our little elixir is almost done, you guys! I think I might just need to add a few more pinches of my ingredients here, and we'll be all set to test it out." She sighed contently, placing her hands on her hips after setting the clipboard down on the table and looking upon her two friends with a friendly smile. "Y'all just 'bout ready to get down to it?"

"Oh, _yeah!" _SpongeBob brightly exclaimed, throwing his thin, yellow arms up in the air and showing off those shiny, white buckteeth. "We sure are ready, Sandy! I've been saving my appetite _all_ day for this," he bit his lip, then looked to his left again. "How about you, Patrick?"

Immediately, Sandy knew how ridiculous that question was for SpongeBob to ask, as Patrick was _never_ able to save his appetite for anything.

"Hm," Patrick shrugged, pulling out a large puff of cotton from his belly button as he glanced up at the ceiling to think "Let's see: All I had this morning was three slices of barnacle toast with butter, I had a… stack of twelve pancakes with that awesome chocolaty syrup they sell at Barg'N Mart – it's really great, you guys should try it!" he smiled giddily at them both, making Sandy roll her eyes. "Oh! A-and I also had six eggs; fried, **not** hardboiled," he shook his head to emphasize how much he dreaded the idea of eating something that was cooked more healthily.

SpongeBob rested his chin on his palm as if this was going to take several hours but still kept that overly happy smile.

Patrick counted the items on his hand. "Let's see, what else… hmmm… Oh! Oh, and I had two pink-frosted doughnuts, _with_ sprinkles," his smile grew. "And then to top everything off, I had a great, big bowl of that old peanut onion sundae you made a long time ago, SpongeBob! Thanks for giving me the recipe for it." He leaned back slightly, placing his arms behind his head. "As you can tell, I have mastered the art of cooking."

Sandy's countenance was a mixture of a twisted scowl and a look in her eyes that was the definition of boredom. She had many thoughts going through her head at the moment, including something that sounded as though it could come from someone like Squidward.

'_Mastered' the art of cookin', huh? Well, even with the way it sounds, I still doubt that he's a master at that. But he __**is**__ a master at bein' a glutton. _

Although, Sandy knew better than to say such a thing out loud, as she was often guilty of eating too much herself.

She didn't want to be labeled as a hypocrite tonight.

But while adding the finishing touches to the beverage that was designed to bring the whole truth out of people, there was a big possibility that such a thing could happen, after all.

It was also possible that she wouldn't be the _only_ one revealed to be a hypocrite, among other things.

"Sooo, in _that_ case," SpongeBob began, lifting his chin from his palm. "You **didn't** save your appetite?"

"Wha— " Patrick furrowed his eyebrows, slightly angered by SpongeBob's _gut_-_wrenching_ accusation. "Why, SpongeBob SquarePants, of course, I did! Oh… n-no, wait… no, I didn't! Or did I? Oh!" he frustratingly shook his head into his hands. "I'm so confused! What does 'appetite' mean again, SpongeBob? I've already forgotten!"

There wasn't anything SpongeBob enjoyed more than helping out a friend. So, naturally, this was his time to become like a talking dictionary for his bestest pal, who was giving him that wide-eyed, sweet and adorable look that Gary gave him whenever he wanted more treats.

"Well, Patrick, it simply means that— "

"Oh, don't even try to trouble yourself, SpongeBob," Sandy interrupted, sticking a wooden spoon into the blender and swirling the mixture around while keeping eye contact with her spongy friend. "It doesn't really matter all that much whether you guys ate or not anyway. Either way, this stuff should be potent enough – more potent than a cowboy's favorite whiskey – to drag the truth _right_ out of ya! However, according to all my calculations, it ain't gonna make us any harsher than a drunk. If anything, the truth should come out smoother than a calm, peaceful wave at Goo Lagoon."

While SpongeBob's attention was pulled away from Patrick by her attitude and lovely smile, the starfish himself just came to a very important realization.

"Hey, wait a minute… does the word 'appetite' have something to do with food?" he stared at SpongeBob, who had begun to gaze off into space; space that was being taken up by Sandy.

"Well, does it?"

"Y-yeah, yeah, Patrick. It does," SpongeBob wiggled his fingers at him as he tried to concentrate on keeping his heartbeat in check while that wonderful squirrel in front of him stirred the smoothie and began pouring it into three empty glasses.

"Well," Sandy said, checking off the last box on her clipboard. "We're all set, boys. Now, keep in mind that this is the first full test of this experiment, k?" she asked slowly, looking up at them thoughtfully while they nodded like sheeple.

Sandy sent Patrick's glass across the table, the bottom of it sliding smoothly along the red and white checkered picnic cloth.

"Oh, boy!" Patrick said excitedly, licking his lips at the thought of consuming something else that was sugary. He lifted his helmet off, setting it down beside him so that he could guzzle the drink until he looked up at Sandy again, noticing the stern look in her eyes.

"And _also_ keep in mind that because this is the first full test, ya gotta drink it _slowly_, okay? Like I said, it's pretty potent, so you've gotta give it the time to absorb properly. Understood?"

"Pffft," Patrick gave another roll of his eyes. "Whatever… _Mom_." He glared.

Sandy refrained from shaking her head at the hostility that threatened to burst out of Patrick. But her expression quickly livened up when she leaned forward to hand SpongeBob his glass.

"You understand, don't ya, SpongeBob?" she smiled softly at the sight of his pretty, blue eyes that focused themselves on her in a rather affectionate way.

"Aye, aye, Miss Cheeks!" he saluted her, earning a chuckle from her. "I'd do anything in the world for my girl." He smiled sweetly.

It seemed Sandy's face was suddenly impervious to the breeze being given by the large, black fan blowing in the back of the room, because a light pink tint gradually appeared on her cheeks, and her skin felt hot as embers.

"W-what'd ya… say, SpongeBob?"

Much like the fan in the room not affecting Sandy's face, the cold water inside SpongeBob's helmet did not prevent his freckled cheeks from burning bright red. "Oh! Uh, heh, heh," he chuckled, taking off his helmet. "I said I'd do anything for **you**, _girl! _Ha, ha, ha!"

"You forgot the 'in the world' part," Patrick said nonchalantly, sticking his finger in the smoothie and twirling it around.

They hadn't even drunk the invention yet, and hidden truths were already slipping out.

"Why, thanks! I surely appreciate that. I'd do anything for you, too…" Sandy finally sat down again, gripping the glass while trying to think of an appropriate response that didn't sound weird. "_Boy_… you know what? Forget I said that. Let the experiment begin, fellers!"

"Alright!" SpongeBob and Patrick cheered in unison, lifting their glasses up high and clanking them against each other.

"And remember," Sandy held up her palm to them, "drink _slowly_."

"Slowly, gotcha… whatever that means," said Patrick before he proceeded to do just that, despite forgetting what it meant.

"Boy, I sure hope this works, Sandy. If it does, it's sure to impress your bosses!" SpongeBob said, smiling and lifting the glass to his lips.

"I'll be madder than bees in a disturbed hive if it doesn't work, SpongeBob," Sandy shook her head. "But not to worry; I worked my tail off on this thing for six days straight, and I am pretty gall-darned sure it's gonna be a success. Here goes nothin'!"

"Five to ten minutes of slow slurping later…" said the French narrator.

"_Ahhhh," _was the relaxed and satisfied sound made by the three friends as they set their now-empty glasses down. They looked up at each other, all wearing smoothie mustaches.

"So, are y'all feelin' any different just yet?" Sandy asked, glancing back and forth between the two men.

"Nope, not yet. Not if you don't count my bladder as it's filling up," Patrick plainly stated, as if they cared to know that much information.

"I feel the same so far." Before putting his helmet back on, SpongeBob licked and smacked his lips together, enjoying the sweet taste that luckily was strong enough to hide any flavor from the chemicals. "Gee, that smoothie sure was _banana_-packed, bahaha!"

"Yessiree, it was! Besides hopefully makin' it out to be a great invention, I figured I might as well make it extra-appealin' to my bosses, too."

SpongeBob's childish smile grew wider when he realized the good verbal material Sandy had just provided him with. "I'd have to agree," he squinted in a bratty manner. "For fellas who enjoy the yellow fruit so much, it certainly _will_ be very _**a**__-__**peeling**__. _Bahahaha!"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

Sandy and SpongeBob laughed their hearts out; Sandy banging her fist on the table while SpongeBob slapped his knee repeatedly. They were having a fun, carefree time.

Patrick, on the other hand, not so much.

The old, dusty attic that was his brain was beginning to get swept of its cobwebs and mental blockages as he stuck his long tongue inside the glass, sucking up every last drop of the smooth goodness.

"Bahahaha!" SpongeBob's cackles continued, and he held onto Patrick's shoulder to stop himself from tumbling off the bench. "Oh!" he squeaked breathlessly, "that was a good one, wasn't it, Patrick?"

Sandy was the first to notice the bland, dead-serious look on the starfish's face as he shrugged and set the glass back down.

SpongeBob, noticing that Sandy's giggles had faded, quickly followed suit. "Patrick?"

"Well, wasn't it a good one, Pat?" she asked, staring at him.

"Mm, not really," Patrick folded his arms, showing a conceited and tired-looking scowl. His face didn't even look like his own anymore. He was known to become serious, annoyed and even smart sometimes, but this was unlike anything the other two had ever witnessed, especially when he decided to let them know his full, true opinion of SpongeBob's humor.

"To be honest, it was as stale and lame as all the other fifty-plus jokes you tell all the time, _SpongeBoring_ _RepetitivePants_."

It was safe to say that this invention of Sandys' was successful.

_Very_ successful.

And it was already obvious that things weren't going to go as smoothly as they thought.

That "calm, peaceful wave" was soon to turn into a tsunami.


	2. Chapter 2: 20 Years & Pent-Up

**Hey! Okay, so remember, folks, _coarse language,_ _dirty humor,_ and _hostility_ are contained within this chapter (and possibly the conclusion). If that sounds like something you won't enjoy, _run. _Run as _fast_ as you can, lol.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Truth Smoothie**

The breezy Treedome was now not only filled with the three friends, dozens of strange contraptions, the oak tree, and well, _air, _but also silence (aside from the whirring of the blades on the fan, which also took up quite a bit of space in the room).

Normally, SpongeBob and Sandy (_especially_ Sandy) would be blinking in shock from something unintelligent or nonsensical that Patrick would say; he was a big, pink, star-shaped barnacle head, after all, with not much going on upstairs in the "attic" of his brain.

Instead, their different colored eyes shifted back and forth towards each other, blinking repeatedly because of the harsh coldness that had just fallen from Patrick's voice.

"Uh… heh. Gee, Patrick," SpongeBob began in a weak, nervous tone, rubbing the back of his helmet while he looked between his two friends with uneasiness. "I-I didn't know you… felt so strongly about my jokes… heh."

Sandy had assumed that since Patrick was who he was, her scientific invention would most likely not pull up many hidden secrets from deep within his headspace, because she had always thought that the files in the drawers of his mind were not only out of alphabetical order, but that some were also _missing._

Now, of course, the unbelievable insults he had uttered were just about SpongeBob's humor and the bland pun he came up with. It was possible -though neither of them could believe that that was what he truly thought about the yellow guy's joking ways- that he might not have much else to say in the way of his opinions. Again, his brain was missing important information.

Maybe all he had left was just a few comments about how he wished he could eat _all_ the time and never stop. Or maybe he was secretly frustrated with the fact that he couldn't see his forehead, or perhaps—

"Psh. Well, yeah, _duh_. I mean, come on! I've known you my whole life, SpongeBob, and your jokes only seem to get worse and more annoying as time goes on!" Patrick said, raising his arms and his voice.

_Or_ perhaps he had more words to say that would rip his porous friend's heart in two.

"Oh, and another thing…" Patrick stared off into space with his black eyebrows intensely furrowed, trying to swim through the sudden _massive_ tidal wave of negative feelings that were flooding the gates of his mind. "It always makes me mad whenever you don't let me eat the rest of Gary's snail foodstuff! _Man_," he turned in the seat so hard, it should have caused the picnic table to collapse. "You really _piss_ me off, SquarePants! You… you selfish cube with sticks for arms!"

SpongeBob could not control the way his body jerked backward in utter shock and hurt. When he swiftly turned his head to Sandy again with a look of pure confusion and horror, she couldn't help but feel the pain radiating from his crystal-blue eyes.

"S-Sandy? W-why is this happening? What does it all mean?"

Sandy leaned forward with concern on her face, picking up the clipboard and turning it to a fresh page. "I hate to break it to ya, but it means it's workin', SpongeBob…" she shook her head, taking note of the changes in Patrick's behavior with her pencil and paper. "Although, accordin' to my research and everything, the truth shouldn't be comin' out _this_ harshly."

"Gosh… you mean… everything he's saying really is… how he _really_ feels about me… his best friend?"

The idea of this dimwitted yet still lovable starfish -who knew SpongeBob since birth and spent many days, weeks, months and years going through so much with him, good and bad- having such brutal things come out of his mouth felt like someone slicing his heart in-half.

"I can take Patrick's truth about my jokes," SpongeBob shook his head sadly, "but.. I-I don't think I can take— "

"That lousy snail of yours doesn't deserve **all** that food! He's as fat as Mr. Krabs' stupid wallet, and as fat as your square head!" Patrick spat where SpongeBob's ear would be inside his helmet.

Though the experiment was proving to be a success so far, Sandy had to wonder, by what she was witnessing, if it was still a good idea to let this invention go out to her bosses, let alone as many people in the sea as possible.

It would turn out to be as bad as the time SpongeBob fed the Bikini Bottomites Plankton's Jerktonium-laced fruitcake.

"Golly…" Sandy's mouth turned downward at Patrick's harshness. "Maybe this is the way the stuff is when it just starts taking hold… maybe it'll get bet— "

Strangely, as if SpongeBob had torn off his saddened face like it was a mask, was now fully turned towards Patrick; his expression as fiery as a giant pile of burning wood at a campsite.

"Oh, is that so?" SpongeBob asked, his tone mocking and cold as ice. "Well, Patrick, I don't think you have the right to say such nasty things about my Gary or Mr. Krabs' wallet; after all, you aren't in the best shape yourself… _Tubby_!"

Sandy shook her head once more at the quick rage of her usually sweet, kind friend. Just moments ago, she had expected him to start the waterworks; his face had looked as innocent as a young kid having one of their toys getting stomped on by a school mate. But now, with those dark bags forming underneath his eyes, the bitterest scowl covering his mouth, his eyebrows sharp enough to stab someone with, and his deep, heavy breathing, it would've led a person to believe that he had been drugged up with an illegal substance that had the potential to make somebody hyper enough to jump off walls, and angry enough to commit murder.

From the looks of it, Patrick was on drugs, too. And the piercing glare he was giving SpongeBob made it appear like he was equally as ready to kill an entire town full of people.

"…Better… as time goes on…" Sandy reluctantly finished, swallowing the rising nerves in her throat.

"Grrrr! Why…" Patrick growled like an animal, releasing a hot breath. "Y-you little prick! _Nobody_ calls me Tubby, and you know it!" he poked SpongeBob in the chest with a finger.

"Oh, ho-ho," SpongeBob chuckled condescendingly, rocking back a bit and rolling his eyes. "But _**I**_ just did. And since I 'piss' you off so badly by not allowing you to eat the Snail-Po that belongs to _me_ and sits in _my_ house, which you are constantly breaking into and stealing from, which frankly, Patrick, pisses _me_ off **just** as much…" he gritted his teeth. "Why don't you do something about it? _Hmmm?" _

The closer he leaned into him, the higher the temperature rose in Patrick's blood.

"Ya Big. Pink. **Loser!"**

SpongeBob returned the nasty favor of poking Patrick's chest with his finger, making sure to use the one that was attached to the _middle_ of his hand.

Patrick being reminded of the depressing time when he tried to win an award for working at the Krusty Krab was the glove that slapped the cheek.

"THAT DOES IT, SQUAREPRICK!"

Sandy's hind end sprang from the picnic table as the two young men rolled off the bench in a dusty, circular cloud; the deafening sounds of smacking, punching, and kicking filling the air-dome like an electric guitar echoing throughout a concert stadium.

Her eyes hadn't been filled with this much horror since the time she had been mooned by Patrick's humongous rear end being squished against her helmet.

"TAKE THAT!"

"YOU TAKE THIS, GAH!"

"OW!"

Clearly, that _wonderful_ and brilliant smoothie that was supposed to help people speak their minds in a dignified, smooth manner had kicked in harder than Mystery the Seahorse had kicked Scooter the Fish for inserting a coin into her slot.

Six long days of research, hours of deep thinking, mixing, running on the exercise wheel and having to endure the loud shrieking of the blender -though she felt like she had been _so_ careful and precise in doing all of it- it was turning reality into a freezing-cold nightmare when it should have made it into a world of warmth, calmness, and understanding.

This wasn't the first time she had miscalculated some of the scientific ins and outs of a project; sometimes even the most intelligent person screws up royally, and what she was witnessing now between her two best friends only further cemented that disheartening fact.

That mixture of fruit and chemicals was most definitely potent. More potent than even _ten_ _bottles_ of a cowboy's favorite whiskey.

She hadn't thought that the first version of that simple phrase would _also_ be a miscalculated way of describing how this would all unfold.

_Jeepers! _She mentally exclaimed, her eyes following the beige cloud of wild particles that held SpongeBob and Patrick trapped and invisible._ This is just terrible! I-I had no clue there was this much hidden animosity between these two. I can't give this stuff to my bosses! They're comin' back tomorrow. I don't have enough time to reformulate the dang thing… it'd take me weeks to do it!_

Her throat swallowed hard on its own at the next thought that came booming through her head.

_What's gonna happen when __**mine**__ kicks in?! _

Sandy's stomach turned inside her as the dusty ball rolled in her direction faster than when SpongeBob rode atop the exercise wheel and came crashing into her.

"AHHHH!" she screamed as she was suddenly sucked into their fight like crumbs into a powerful vacuum cleaner.

Surprisingly, as she was rolled and squashed between them, she found that SpongeBob had a lot more strength in his little fists than she could have ever guessed. Yes, he was good and forceful with his karate chops, but she never thought that he was able to use his hands in the way that the tough guys at the Salty Spitoon used theirs.

Perhaps a side effect of the smoothie was turning small, curled fingers into tiny boxers.

"THAT'S FOR CALLIN' ME 'TUBBY'!"

"OH, YEAH? WELL, **THIS** IS FOR INSULTING MY GARE-BEAR, MY BOSS' WALLET, **AND** MY SQUARE HEAD!"

"OUCH! THIS IS FOR RUBBING THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE A JOB IN MY FACE ALL THE TIME!"

"AH! WELL, MR. STAR, IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A LAZY PILE OF BLUBBER, YOU'D HAVE A JOB, TOO! TAKE THAT!"

"OWW!"

"STOP! Both of y'all, just STOP! You're gonna get all three of us killed with this monkey business!"

"Hey, nobody asked you to butt-in, you bucktoothed, big-footed sasquatch!"

"Yeah! **Butt**-**out**, ya furry nut-lover!"

Upon having those two blood-boiling insults shoot through her ears like a piercing gun pricking the earlobe with a piece of jewelry, Sandy stretched her arms out as if she was prying open the mouth of a clam; her hands pressed against both their helmets, which allowed them to see the long claws that seemed to pop out of the tips of her fingers like an act of sorcery had occurred.

Low-sounding breaths of rage flew out of her mouth, mixing with the noise of those claws scratching their way down the two glass bubbles like nails on a chalkboard, or a metal tool being dragged across the asphalt.

SpongeBob and Patrick's faces flashed with terrified looks as they fixed their eyes on Sandy's morphing features; she now appeared to be as drugged up as they were, the whites of her eyes cracking with red capillaries, her pupils shrinking as her eyelids opened wider and wider, and her teeth grinding into her lower lip as though she was trying to bury them beneath the sensitive skin.

As the two sat on their rears and tried to avoid her feet that spread further and further apart the angrier that she grew, a drop of hot saliva spilled from her slightly opened mouth and dripped down onto the grass, creating the same sizzling sound that SpongeBob heard on weekdays when he cooked Krabby Patties on the grill.

As if the hair-raising sounds of her breathing wasn't enough to scare the pants off them, her head whipped around in both their directions, clenching her teeth even harder and glaring at them with malice, leaving them to swallow their whimpers in the way they should have swallowed their pride.

She looked like a wild carnivore getting ready to kill its prey and have a feast.

"_So," _she spat out the word like she was spitting out a ball of gum. "That's what you two fat knuckleheads think of me, is it? A _dang_ smelly animal with big teeth, feet, and a _furry_ nut-lover, huh?"

"W-well, your feet _do_ look kinda sasquatch-y…" Patrick's voice shook and weakened like his legs.

"Y-yeah and nuts _are_ one of your biggest passions…" SpongeBob said; his tone as frightened as a child checking under their bed for monsters.

"**Well**, then," Sandy firmly stated, gripping onto each of their chests and yanking them towards her mad face. "We can put aside how y'all got enough gall to even **dare** to call me somethin' as humiliatin' as a big, hairy primate," she lifted them like they were weightless dolls and set them down to stand in front of her. "But we _can_ talk about the other _interestin'_ set of words."

"T-talk about it?" SpongeBob squeaked.

"Yeah. See, it's true that I love me some _good_ nuts…"

SpongeBob and Patrick's eyes grew as wide as an open range as Sandy roughly brushed her right foot against the ground like a bull, and she looked at them with a warning of the pain that was to come. Obviously, her version of "talking about it" had nothing to do with words.

"But I don't just love_ eatin'_ 'em."

It was a good thing neither of the young boys were dirty-minded because they would have burst into giggles and angered her to the point of frying them up like a pair of steaks at a Texas barbecue.

"W-w-what else do you like to do with 'em?" SpongeBob asked, stiffening up with sweat pouring down his face.

"Yeah," Patrick gulped, "crack 'em open?" he grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah."

That evil smirk growing on her lips raised the speed of their pulses faster than the time she nearly killed them for breaking into her Treedome during hibernation season.

"Oh! Then you must use a nut cracker for that, right?" Patrick asked, his goofy smile returning.

"Why, I surely do. In fact, I'm in the mood to crack some right at this very moment."

"Well, in that case, I-I can go grab the nut cracker for you if you want me to…"

"No need. I got one _right_ here."

"AHHH-HAAAA-HAAAAA!"

Sandy gladly put her giant foot to good use, pulling it backward and then sending it straight into the "nuts" that were housed inside the front of Patrick's shorts.

The poor starfish flew across the dome like a fireball, unprepared for the harsh meeting of his back against the hard polyurethane.

_**BOOM!**_

"Finland!"

When he crashed, the entire place vibrated like there was a worldwide earthquake, causing SpongeBob to crouch down and tremble with fear like, what Sandy wanted to call him, a _pussy. _

She did hate cats. Especially _scaredy-cats._

After the violent shaking ceased, SpongeBob lifted his head back up to look at her with dread. "Heh, heh…" his shoulders bounced at the creepy, scary look she was staring at him with. "I-I didn't know you were talking about _those_ kinds of nuts…"

"Now it's _your_ turn, _SquarePrick_."

The disdainful way she vomited up Patrick's previous insult made him jump to his feet, holding his hands out in front of him like he was standing in front of a speeding bus, trying to alert the driver to hit the brakes so that he wouldn't get flattened like roadkill. "No, Sandy, don't! _Please!_" he begged, tears spilling from his squinting eyes as he pressed his palms together like he was praying to Neptune himself. "I don't _want_ to have my nuts cracked! Please, I…"

Sandy's guard went all the way up when he stopped shaking his head, and his plea for mercy was replaced with a devious, smug smirk.

"Ohhh, _wait_ a minute…" he mockingly lowered his eyelids and placed his hands on his hips. "I'm a sponge; therefore, I don't _have_ any nuts! I'm nut-less. I reproduce by budding. IN YOUR FACE! BAHAHAHA!"

The pointing of his finger towards her eyes, on top of his obnoxious, insane laughter lit a vengeful fuse within her.

"Y'all are right, SpongeBob."

"Why, of course, I am, Saaann-day. Perhaps I'm much smarter than you give me credit for." He dusted off his shoulder, walking around her in a circle to aggravate her further. "And perhaps when I produce some babies, they could all grow up to replace you as the town scientist since it seems you're as **dumb** as dumb ol' Texas! Bahahaha!"

"Why, sure. Allow me to help ya with the process of your baby-makin'."

By the time SpongeBob opened his eyes with confusion, his gut was met with the bottom of her foot, making him nearly double over from the unbearable pain.

"HI-YAH!"

"OW!"

"HEE-YAH!"

"OH-HO!"

"Hi-YAH, YAH, HA, YAH, HI-**YAAAHHH**!"

"OOH, AH, EEEE, OH, OHHHH-HOOO!"

When she was done karate kicking and chopping him everywhere on his body, _including_ the area of his non-existent scrotum (just for the heck of it), he lay out on the grass as perfectly sliced chunks of cheese, ready to be served over a giant salad.

If only Sandy had another one of those giant soybeans hanging around, along with some supersized croutons.

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"Four and a half hours of painful truths later…"

"Ya know somethin', Patrick?" SpongeBob asked.

"What?"

"I've thought about what you said, and you're right."

"That your laugh could be used by the FIA to torture people in interrogations?" (the 'FIA' standing for 'Fish Intelligence Agency').

"_Wha?_ No. I was talking about the thing with Mr. Krabs's fat wallet. You had that pegged correctly. I've always known just exactly who he is; firing me, his best employee, all those times for stupid reasons, like saving a single stinkin' nickel… _stingy_, _red_ _bastard_."

"Thank Neptune that's what you're talkin' about, SpongeBob. 'Cause if you'd been talkin' about how you could agree with what Patrick said about me bein' an overbearing, insensitive bitch, I'd have taken a damn chainsaw to your imaginary nutsack."

"Well, I've thought about that, too, Sandy, and I think he's— "

"Say 'right', and I'm grabbin' the chainsaw."

"…I… ehhh… never mind, heh, heh." SpongeBob _already_ had to literally pull himself back together after being chopped up into cheese chunks.

"Speaking of who's right and wrong about stuff, I think you guys were wrong about how you said I'm a 'selfish, gluttonous barnacle-dick'."

"How could we be wrong? Y'all eat like a freakin' hog on a hot summer's day." At this point, Sandy didn't give a darn whether she was labeled a 'hypocrite' or not for eating too much herself; if either one tried it, all she'd have to do would be to teach them another lesson with her fists or her feet. Or both.

"Yeah, and you've done stuff like not share that Krusty Kid's meal with me. And let's not forget how you wouldn't give me the toy to play with, either. I had to fight you for it."

"Sounds pretty darn selfish if ya ask me."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you guys are… are… uhh…" Patrick rubbed underneath his helmet, his brain running out of the energy to think.

"Good at jellyfishing?"

"Sharp as a tack?"

"Pft, **no**. I'm tryin' to think of insults, not comp… c-comp… _compli_… oh, I give up."

At 11:00 p.m., the sky was now as black as the endless void where the souls of the three friends floated; all badly bruised on their insides from finally coming to know what they had been hiding from each other for so long.

The bizarre insanity that occurred just hours before was like a dark, agonizingly dragged-out scene in a novel written by a deranged psychopath. More yelling, physical harm, insults, throwing of objects and mental pain had gone down more intensely than a plane crashing and destroying a boatway, leaving everything in ruin.

Who knew such lively and unique characters, who all had their issues but managed to stick together all these years and remain close, were keeping the most jaw-dropping opinions deep within their minds and hearts?

All Sandy wanted to do was impress her bosses and help them be honest with one another. And if it helped them, why couldn't it do the same for so many others?

The fact of the matter was that certain "truths" or opinions were best kept hidden from the rest of the world, and going the extra mile to drink a potent substance of fruit and chemicals to bring them to the surface wouldn't just be a huge problem – it could potentially rip relationships apart between people.

At least, that was the danger that seemed to have only been proven to be true by what was going on this evening.

From the looks of it, it wasn't going to _help_ anybody. People would be better off just chatting through their personal opinions of each other by going to therapy.

This entire concept that came to Sandy in the first place seemed just as genius as all the others she had come up with over her career as a scientist.

This was the first time in quite a while that one of her ideas turned out to be _not _so bright. The smoothie had done its job, but not in the way it was supposed to.

Then again, not every set of thoughts and feelings out there were as brutal as the ones that had been shared and were _still_ being shared at the moment, as the female and two males lay out underneath the brilliantly lit dome, with the twinkling stars showing above and all around them.

Only this time, the psychotic and rageful phase of their behavior was, quite oddly, over and done with.

Sandy hadn't a clue that her invention would drag them through two different stages; one that gave the effects of certain stimulants, and one that now made them sound as exhausted as a man with a hangover, with mouths that chirped and cursed like dolphins, confessing more truths that tasted sour coming out, and stung when traveling through their ears.

It was as though Sandy had downed a bottle or two of that cowboy whiskey or some other type of liquor, and SpongeBob and Patrick -being the weaker ones who couldn't handle the potency of real alcohol- had scarfed down dozens of fancy, glass cups filled with Triple Gooberberry Sunrises, which were the desserts that had left them _trashed_ at Goofy Goober's back in the year 2004.

The vanilla extract inside the smoothie could've had something to do with how drunk they were acting, but if that was indeed the case, it was still rather strange that it hadn't affected them earlier on.

But this was a world where a talking sponge, a nose-picking starfish, and a smart squirrel living in an air-dome existed; basically, the most illogical things could occur, and no one would be able to question them.

The eyes of Patrick and Sandy stared up at the bright balls of light in the sky, while they lay with their backs on the grass. Neither was making any efforts to move their limbs, which was the opposite of what SpongeBob was forcing himself to do.

The sponge, laying on his stomach, his scratched-up helmet leaning against his left palm, and his right hand gripping a red marking pen and tracing it around an off-white piece of paper, looked down with tired and bloodshot eyes at the picture he was sketching.

Even when feeling drunk off his square behind, he managed to tap into his brain and use his artistic side. However, what he was making wasn't anything to gawk at when compared to the other masterpieces he had created in the past, such as the time when he magically produced _David_ by Michaelangelo in Squidward's art class.

"Uh-huuhhh…" he muttered, sticking his tongue out in anticipation. "Mmm-hmm… oh, yeah, just one more little stroke of the… marker, and…"

After slurring his words and inhaling deeply, SpongeBob tucked his fingers under the paper, pulling it off the grass and holding it up high for his friends to see. "Ta-da! What do you guys think?"

Sandy, still on her back, lifted her head first and squinted at the poorly drawn smiley face with a wiggly mouth and U-shaped eyes. "Mm… I've seen ya do better than that crap."

"Pssh," SpongeBob practically spit out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Aw, phooey! What do **squirrels** know anyway?" he brought his top and bottom eyelids together to match the look of disgust on the rest of his face. "What do you think, Patrick?"

"It sucks."

Patrick just barely lifting his pointy head to take a glance at what, in SpongeBob's mind, was a _breathtaking_ piece of art and being so blunt about it was yet another stab to the heart.

He sniffled, his eyes glowing and beginning to water. Those two words made him swirl with emotions, such as sadness, betrayal and—

"You big _**jerk!**_" he balled-up the paper in his hands and threw it at Patrick's head, causing it to bounce off his helmet and land on Sandy's stomach.

"You barely even looked at it!" SpongeBob exclaimed, bursting into full-blown tears and sobbing while he sat up and hugged his scrawny knees to his chest.

"So?!" Patrick questioned annoyedly, sitting up and shooting a glare in his direction. "What's the big deal? Why do you gotta be such a freaking crybaby wuss?"

"W-why do **you **have to be such a _dickless_ wonder?!" SpongeBob pointed a shaky finger at him.

As a result of the ridiculous, overdramatic scene in front of her, Sandy rolled her eyes so far upwards, she could have seen into the back of her head.

"I-I don't know!" Patrick took shallow breaths, trying to find a way to take the blame off himself. "Why don't you ask Sandy that question? Thanks to her, I really _am_ a dickless wonder now. She's the reason I can't ever have any kids in the future!"

"Oh, shut the hell up, ya tub of lard dunderhead," Sandy slurred, sitting up and grabbing the crumpled paper to throw it across the way towards SpongeBob. "Like y'all were gonna eventually get with someone and have kids anyway. No woman in her right mind would ever get near your chubby, smelly behind, let alone be interested in your deformed shrimp dick."

"Yeah, well, it really **is** deformed now, no thanks to you, squirrel-bitch!" Patrick's deep voice thundered as he stood up, wobbling and nearly falling back down due to his dizziness. "You know," he shook his head quickly, "you really are a bitch. Y-you're mean… a-and you think you're smarter than everyone else, and you like to crack people's nuts with your sasquatch-y feet!" he clenched his fists and shut his eyes tightly, making a low, ongoing groaning noise.

"Good grief, it looks and sounds like you're takin' a shit." When Sandy stood up herself, it was as if a warning siren for a life-threatening disaster had gone off. She, too, clenched her fists and her teeth, staring at Patrick with daggers. "And ya know what? On second thought, you're right; I **am** a bitch, but at least I own it! Meanwhile, y'all have been dumber than a sack of bricks floatin' down to the bottom of the ocean your entire life, but yet you continue to act like a smartass!"

"Hey, that isn't fair, Sandy," SpongeBob said, pushing himself up off the ground with his weak hands and staggering backward as he tried to keep his eyes open. "Patrick may act like a jerky smarty-pants, but at least he doesn't use people as his test monkey like a certain someone has been using _me_ for all these years."

Sandy cocked an eyebrow at how quickly his mood changed. He was sobbing and angry at Patrick no more than a minute ago, and now he had turned the tables, reabsorbing the tears into his body and directing his vexatious attitude toward her.

Perhaps the town theories about this yellow guy having some sort of personality disorder were correct. It wasn't just the effects of the smoothie; SpongeBob had been this way his entire life, but it had become much more pronounced in the last few hours.

Sandy had even stopped writing down the changes in _all_ their behaviors, not just SpongeBob's, not long after the concoction had kicked in inside her bloodstream. It was like her mind, which was usually as clear and bright as the Texas sky, was now as foggy as a puff of smoke from a cigar. She couldn't seem to focus on writing words down on her clipboard; every time she did, the sentences looked as messed up as SpongeBob's lame smiley face drawing.

"Well, you've certainly got some nerve there, SquarePrick. I always thought y'all enjoyed bein' my test subject and lab partner," she crossed her arms over her chest as her face showed her fed-up feelings.

"I do, but it gets really tiresome after while." SpongeBob stuck his hand inside his helmet to wipe away the drool from his mouth and the snot from his nostrils. "Especially considering that you're always putting my life in danger with your little experiments. You don't even care about me at all, do you, _Sandra_?"

"Why, I care more about y'all than you could ever freakin' know, _SpongeRobert_," she pointed a finger at herself, leaning forward quickly and startling him with the fierce look in her eyes. "But seein' as how _you_ agree with fathead over there about me bein' a bitch, it seems you don't return that care."

"What?" he waved her off with both his hands, continuing to stagger. "Oh, please, you said it yourself just a few minutes ago that you're a bitch and you own it, which makes it pretty easy and fair for me to agree with you. But don't think just because you _are_ a bitch, that I don't put up with it anyway and love you with all of my beating heart, Sandy, because I do." He folded his arms over his chest and turned his back to her, which was like both a slap in the face and a reason for her to hit herself over the head because of the meaningful words he had just spoken.

Or did she just _think _he had spoken them? Was she hearing things?

"What did y'all just say to me?"

SpongeBob's eyes burst open with realization; his pulse speeding up at the fact that he couldn't even remember everything he had just said, or at least didn't _want_ to remember. "Uhh… I-I said… you're a bitch and you own it, and I agree. That's all."

"Bullshit!"

Once again, SpongeBob's eyes opened; this time, though, they squinted back into place quicker than the morning he was hungover at Goofy Goober's and realized what a terrible boss Mr. Krabs was for picking Squidward to be the manager instead of him.

He spun around on his heels, shooting a drunk-looking glare at her. Now it was his turn to start questioning what he had heard. "What did you say, _San_-_day_?"

"Bull. Freaking. Shit."

Sandy returning his threatening stare made him scowl even harder.

"You mentioned the word 'love', and you know it. Don't pretend ya didn't, ya _bullshitter."_

"Well, I don't know what 'bullshit' is, but I do know _seahorse_ shit when I see it." He grabbed onto his red tie, repositioning it and curling his lips inward. "I brought a seahorse to the Krusty Krab once, and I had to clean up her shit all over the kitchen. But you wouldn't know what that's like, would ya, Sandy? You're only used to cleaning up your _own_ shit!"

"Hey, at least I _do_ clean up my shit! Unlike Patrick, who never wipes his ass or even bathes!" she sneered, her voice growing raspy.

The smoothie was almost finished running its course inside Patrick, as he now lay on the grass again; his arms and legs stretched out, his belly rising and falling, and his eyelids struggling to stay open. "Are you guys talking about me?"

"SHUT UP, PATRICK!" SpongeBob and Sandy exclaimed together, glancing at him angrily.

"Psh," Patrick dropped his head back down. "Whatever, big fat meanies."

"Ha, ha, ha!" SpongeBob mocked, smirking and rocking his head from side to side. "There you go again, Sandy. Always thinking you're better than everyone else. You know, acting all superior twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week isn't a very nice or _attractive_ thing for a person to do."

Sandy's vocal cords were on the verge of exploding with a growl at the way he looked at her with those conceited, asshole-ish, and infuriatingly _gorgeous_ blue eyes.

He really was a prick, but he was also too cute for his own good.

"Ya know what else ain't attractive? Bein' an annoying, smug little brat, with a brain the size of a damn pea."

"Hmph, well, it doesn't surprise me what you think of my intelligence— "

"Or lack thereof."

"Ah, who gives a barnacle?! Give it a rest, Sandy. You think I care whether you find me attractive or not? Ha! Well…" he flung his right arm, falling forward a bit. "Joke's on you, sister because I couldn't care less how pretty _you_ are, with your… adorable fluffy ears, and your chocolate-brown eyes that make me melt like… eh… _chocolate_, and especially your beautiful personality. HUH! Who do you think you are, making me feel all warm and fuzzy with your laugh? You make me sick!"

Truly, he wished she would make him sick _much_ more often than she already did.

Sandy's finger pointed at him like a loaded shotgun, with a mind of its own. "Well, _you_ make me sicker with your sweet smile, that cute, long as heck nose that shows your emotions like a dog's tail, the _stupid_ holes all over your charmin' little face, and that _same_ set of clothes you've been wearin' all your life. You and your little striped socks and shiny, black shoes! Y'all ought to be ashamed for makin' me blush whenever ya walk into the room!"

Patrick, now in a deep sleep despite all the _horrible_ name-calling that was going on, snored loudly with drool bubbling out of his mouth and into his helmet. Even if he was awake, he most likely wouldn't have understood what was going on, anyways. So, he wouldn't have found their argument all that amusing or worthy of teasing.

"Oh, _yeah_. Well, even though I've been sporting this outfit for so many years, at least it's interesting, well-put-together and _not_ attached to my body, unlike your boring, old tail!"

Sandy's tail was like her second pride and joy, next to her science career. To hear such an insult about it, though it could have been far worse, was like a kick to her gut and a wrecking ball to her confidence, especially coming from him, of all people.

"Why, you…" she shook with anger. "Well, hey, I shouldn't be all that surprised by your opinion of it, considerin' the fact that I brush it for over an hour just to make it look good for your sorry behind before you come for a visit, and you never even _notice!"_

"Ha! Speaking of things going unnoticed, Sandy, _you_ never seem to notice that I pile on half a bottle of cologne just to impress your senses!"

"Oh, I noticed. That's supposed to be cologne? I always just thought you fell into an unflushed toilet full of piss before comin' over here."

"_Ohhh_!" SpongeBob balled-up his fists, exasperation filling up his insides. "That's it! I have about had it with this steaming pile of seahorse shit." His feet stomped across the way towards Patrick. He bent in half, grabbing his hand and dragging him along the grass while he still slept soundly. "Come on, Patrick. Let's get out of here." He turned his head back slightly to send a bitter look of farewell to the scientist.

"We'll leave this squirrel-sasquatch to tend to her inventions. I sure hope those chimps don't fire ya, Miss Cheeks. Not that we'd miss you if you went to move back to the surface, anyway."

His words, while still poking her like a sea bear, also stung like sour lemon juice being poured over a cut or splashing into an eyeball while it was being squeezed over a drink.

She wasn't about to let him leave her hanging over a cliff like this.

This was the last straw.

"You get your little, yellow **ass** back here, SquarePants. I ain't done with you just yet."

Those words blew into SpongeBob's ears like a megaphone. He dropped Patrick's hand at the exit faster than a lazy high school student dropped their grades. He turned around, bending his arms at his sides in his "I'm ready!" fashion and began a steady, purposeful walk towards her.

"So, I see we're using coarse language now, are we, _**Sandra**_?"

"Don't give me that shit, you hypocrite. You've been cussin' up a bigger storm than either me or Patrick have for almost the **entire** night. Don't deny it."

"Well, I see that besides being insensitive, you're also good at keeping track of things. How is that possible?! Are you a spy or something?"

"I have ears, you idiot!"

"I wish I could say the same, but all I have are holes on the sides of my head!"

"Don't forget about the big one _inside_ your head."

If all she was going to do was continue to insult his mind, why did she call him back? Their whole evening had been filled with nothing _but_ insults, so what else was there to say? What was the purpose?

"Alright, you've made your point! I am not gonna stand here and take this anymore," SpongeBob declared with another stomp of his foot; his heart filling with more determination than the time he tried to save his parents from Cousin Blackjack.

"Y'all askin' for a fight?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow and preparing her knuckles by cracking them.

"Only if you're up for it, nut-crusher!"

"Oh, **I'm** up for it, ya square-headed squeaky toy!"

"**So** am I, you big-brained, pink-nosed fuzzball!"

The heat within the room rose like an elevator making its way up to the top floor of a hotel. The two burned holes through each other with their eyes, circling the dome and wiggling their fingers like cowboys getting ready for a showdown in an old Western film.

"Sidewindin', patty flippin', clumsy egomaniac!"

"Big, bushy-tailed, air-sucking rodent!"

The gasp that came from her was deep enough to suck up every ounce of oxygen within the room, proving SpongeBob's statement true.

For such a little guy, he sure had a gigantic piehole.

"THAT. DOES IT! HEEEEE-YAAHH!"

"HI-YAHH!"

They charged towards one another, their battle cries echoing so loudly, they could have woken up the entire city. But it still didn't manage to wake up Patrick, as he continued to snore away, occasionally mumbling something in his sleep.

For the next two minutes straight, they swung at each other with all their limbs, using each one to deliver punches, kicks, and chops that would have impressed the biggest karate masters in existence.

SpongeBob would lift his foot quickly, but not quickly enough to have it meet her face; instead, it met her hands every time, to which she would respond by flipping him in different directions, slamming his back hard onto the grass, the polyurethane, and now, after one last attempt to win the fight, into the sharp bark of the oak tree.

The impact knocked his helmet right off his head, causing the water inside of it to land in a splash that made him feel dry just witnessing it.

He slid down the tree, scraping up his back. "I-is that all ya got…" his voice cracked with exhaustion and pain, his eyelids drooping and his finger shaking. "Ya… ferocious... sasquatch... _thing_?"

"Nope, I got _one_ more harsh as hell truth for ya," she stated, coming towards him.

Her approaching legs that _should_ have been two appeared to be four in his blurry, lopsided vision.

"Oh, yeah? Well, _bring_ _it_ _on_, squirrelly!" he made a fist and shook it to look tough, but just ended up looking pathetic.

"I'll bring it on, alright."

She reached her destination too fast for him to gather his jumbled thoughts and prepare for the final blow, and he had a feeling it would somewhere on his face this time.

Where, exactly? His eye? He had had black eyes before, so that wouldn't be anything he couldn't deal with afterward. If not there, then perhaps his nose? His jaw? Maybe even his forehead or cheek?

She roughly gripped her strong hands around his shirt collar and yanked him off the ground, pulling him towards her so that she could deliver that "truth."

When their faces nearly collided and his eyes were forced to look into hers, he flinched, closing his 'lids and accepting his fate of being finished off.

If he was supposed to be knocked out by her fist, he should have been experiencing at least a few more seconds of enormous pain.

Why, then, was her fist not anywhere _near_ his face, and why was he not in pain _or_ unconscious, but a state of shock?

His eyes shot open at the sensation of her lips smashing against his and moistening them.

"Hmm! Mm, hmmm!" he panicked.

He shifted his eyes to the pink sleeping oaf on the other side of the room. He wasn't going to be able to save him from whatever the heck it was she was doing.

His breaths grew fast and heavy, blowing out from his nostrils and hitting her skin, which only encouraged her to shake her head, deepening the fervent kiss that she was smothering him with.

After a few seconds of her moving her hands from his collar to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace, SpongeBob still didn't know what was going on, but he did know that he now liked it.

He liked it _a lot. _So much so that his arms made their way around her as well, and intense affection enveloped him completely, leaving his eyes with no choice but to close again, and the helpless murmuring of his voice under her lips to turn into a blissful moan of surrender.

Twenty years of pent-up passion, and it was finally being released.

Out of all the secrets being kept hidden, this had to be the most explosive one.

What was happening was proof that the truth didn't _always_ hurt.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty! Well, _that_ happened lol. I apologize if it seems overdone or too vulgar for some of you, but I _did_ put a lot of warnings, and the direction I took it in is just the way I wanted it to go. If you disliked it, I am sorry. But if you enjoyed it, hey, good for you, haha. This will be on hiatus for a while until I can figure out how to finish it. **

**See ya again soon! **


End file.
